


We won't fail you

by HikariYumi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - No Hunters, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cast out Castiel, Damaged wings, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Torture, Wings, graphical description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariYumi/pseuds/HikariYumi
Summary: The angel Castiel rebelled against his brothers in favour of the humans and got cast out of heaven by Raphael. Down on earth, he realises that not every person only has the best intents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there,  
> this one started with the simple idea to torture Castiel because I was in a really bad mood. So, this was planned really different, much bloodier, darker and without happy ending.  
> Thank my beta for this change^^
> 
> Like always: I'm no native speaker, if you find leftover mistakes don't hesitate to contact me!
> 
> Thanks for reading  
> ~Hikari

“You and your humans. You have no idea, Castiel, you’re driven by your heart and your emotions, you’re too blind to see those apes for what they are. However, just go on, little brother, rebel, and stand up for those people, but soon you will realize your mistake. Then you’ll stand here, beg for forgiveness and see we have been right all along.”

 

Castiel felt a weird tug right under the place where his vessel had his heart. He didn’t know what that sensation was, but he knew he didn’t like it. Since he couldn’t do something about it anyway, the angel decided to take a look around. He hadn’t been on earth before, all he knew was what the angels had told him or what he had read and watched himself through a spell. It was much more intimidating to see it in reality.  
  
Earth was fairly different from the version of heaven where the angels existed, it was even different from the heavens where the humans spent their afterlife. And Castiel wasn’t yet sure what to think of it as he wasn’t sure how to proceed from here. 

Slowly, the angel rose to his feet and started walking, not knowing where to go or what to do. If he was honest with himself, he had never intended to end up in the world of humans like this, maybe a short visit, but nothing that permanent.  
  
Raphael had cast him out of heaven, sent him down, but didn’t let him fall. Castiel could still feel his grace intact, whirring under his vessel's skin, as well as his wings which were hidden from humankind. 

After a while of walking, the angel found a narrow path which eventually led into a street into a town. This was nothing like the big, grey towns Castiel had watched from heaven a few times, with busy streets with skyscrapers wherever you looked. No, it was small and rundown, dirty and filthy in the alleys and only few people on the street.  
  
For a while, the angel just stood in the middle of something that looked like a shopping district, taking in the atmosphere and smell of a place full of breathing people. 

Yes, the buildings were in desperate need of a paint job and the windows of cleaning, but it still amazed Castiel. He was tempted to just go inside and follow the handful of people who strolled through the shops, being one of them, but he couldn’t do that, not yet.  
  
After all he had just come down here, without any idea how to proceed; if Raphael hadn’t taken care of that beforehand, he wouldn’t even have a vessel. Castiel frowned and stuck his hands in the pockets of the beige trench coat this body was wearing. And he was indeed lucky, a few coins clinked against each other, just waiting to be spent.

Even Castiel knew that it wasn’t much, most likely just change from an earlier shopping trip, so he decided not to waste it on food he didn’t really need. While wearing a human body, angels could use their grace to power them, making the human way of sustaining redundant. Of course, there were exceptions, but he didn’t intend to get into one of this situations.  
  
Instead, the angel strolled through the mostly empty streets, eyes wandering over every house he passed by until he found a bar. Dim light shone through the opaque windows, indicating that it was indeed open for business, so Castiel entered curiously.

The establishment was a lot more crowded than the activity outside would have let on. Pleasantly surprised, the angel slid into a free stool at the bar, craning his neck to give the people at the tables a quick look over. 

“Hey sweetheart, what’s bringing you here tonight?” A busty brown haired bartender grinned at him widely and Castiel tried to answer with a smile of his own. He was afraid it didn’t work out too well, though the woman didn’t seem to mind.  
  
“My brother brought me here to experience humankind for myself because I’m disagreeing with him in that point.”

The woman chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You’re a weird guy, what do you wanna drink? Or are you just here to 'experience humankind'? If that’s the case you might have more luck at Lonny's, there you’ve got a wide variety of women to choose from.”  
  
Castiel was confused by the bartender’s words and decided to make his point clearer. “I don’t want to choose a single person. And I haven’t drink anything yet, what would you recommend?” The woman stared at him for a few seconds, apparently trying to find out if he was speaking the truth. 

“I can assure you I don’t lie, it doesn’t fit into my picture of duty.”  
  
“Yes, you’re really weird. What’s your name, love?” She turned around and grabbed a bottle from a shelf on the wall.

“Castiel.”

“Well, Castiel, I’m Maddie. That’s a really unusual name, where are you from?” In the next moment, the angel found a glass of amber liquor in front of him, it smelled strong and carefully he sipped from it.

His eyes widened in surprise when the beverage felt hot and cold on his tongue the same time and stayed like this when Castiel swallowed, leaving a burning trail from his throat to his stomach.

“That really was your first drink, wasn’t it? That one is on me then.” Maddie smirked while leaning at the bar.

“Thank you, that is truly nice of you. And no, where I live my kind of name isn’t that unusual, every angel has a name of that kind.”

“Angel? Huh, you’re quite confident, aren’t you? But you can really pull that off with your good looks,” she mused quietly. Taking another sip of his drink he didn’t know the name of, Castiel glanced around once more. At the other end of a room in a darker corner sat two man over something the angel could identify as beer, appearing to be absorbed in their conversation. Next to them was a group of six, young adults, male and female, laughing and gesticulating freely. Two of them kissed, another two were stroking each other's legs hidden under the table. “Hey, you listening, sweetheart?”

The bartender’s words let Castiel's attention snap back to her before he could finish his observation. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. But I wouldn’t call myself confident and I’m not sure why you would assume that.”

Maddie raised one of her thin eyebrows, as if trying to evaluate his words. “Calling yourself an angel isn’t confident?”

“No, it is simply a fact. I’m an angel of the Lord,” he answered, looking at her questioningly. 

“If that’s the case, then I’ll buy you a second one. I can’t let an angel pay, can I?” The bartender grinned and put together another drink for Castiel before getting a round of beers and bringing it over to the men in the corner.  
  
Things went blurry shortly after that. Maybe Castiel should have asked about the beverage before readily drinking more, he didn’t know how that would affect him and his vessel yet.

“My, my, angel. You look like you need some help, don’t you? C'mon, we'll take you with us.”  
  
~  
  
Castiel regained consciousness with the feeling of being bound. When he became a little more aware of his surroundings, he noticed that the sensation didn't only stem from his state of being tied to a chair but went deeper than that. 

A bright light shone into his eyes, made him shut them in discomfort again. What was happening?

“Our lil’ angel seems to wake up.” A scratchy voice sounded behind him. Castiel turned the few centimetres he managed, blinking, trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker. “Great. It’s even more fun then.”

The second man was a gruff looking, half of his face covered in a short, messily trimmed beard and his hair hidden from a dark cap. His eyes were small and of watery colour, every feature screamed danger to the angel, but he couldn’t flee.

It took him a few moments to understand that those two were the same men that had sat in the bar with him, they hadn’t given off this much of a poisoned feeling in there. If they had, Castiel wouldn’t have hesitated a second to make a run for it.

Now the second man who had stood behind the angel, most likely next to the room's door, came into Castiel's sight. He was quite a bit bigger than his partner, dirty tanned and with broad hands.

“Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

The man with the hat chuckled darkly. “What do you think what we want, boy? You can't blare something like being an angel out and expect no one to take interest.” Castiel frowned, how would the knowledge of his nature lead to this situation?

“Maddie even came over to tell us a second time, the girl knows that this is exactly the stuff we’re looking for.” Were those men believers? The angel grasped the men's intent only when the bigger one opened a drawer on his left side, revealing an array of metallic instruments.

Suddenly aware that it wasn’t only rope that bound him to the chair in something that looked like an old basement, Castiel began to thrash. It only earned him laughter and the experience of failing. “What did you do? This shouldn’t be able to hold me back!” he asked, staring up at his captors who seemed quite amused by his helplessness.

“Let me put it like this, angel, we’re used to meeting a bunch of monsters daily, you're hardly the most powerful. We’ve got plenty of time to come up with a little drink that would help us keep you weak.” So he wasn’t the only one who had gotten captured by those people, even though right now he seemed to be alone. “But we have to give you that, a celestial monster, that’s a first. Normally we operate on demons and vampires. Always nice to have another first, though. So many things to try out.”

The tone of the words was sending involuntary shivers down his spine, horrible implications carried along with it.

“Things like?” Castiel asked, managing to keep everything but a slight tremble out of his voice.

“Oh, where would be the fun if it isn’t a surprise?”  
  


~  
  


Even after a time span that felt endless, the men didn’t ever seem to run out of ideas what to test on their captured angel. Especially not after they found out that he was not to kill without specific items and therefore healed by his Grace every so often.

Castiel had never wished more to have obeyed his brothers, they had been right all along. If it hadn't been for his foolish stubbornness, he would never have ended up here.

Whatever potion it was the men had brewed together against the demon offspring, it affected himself very inconveniently too. It made his brain grow fuzzy in ways the blood loss didn’t manage and, without touching his grace, rendered his connection to heaven useless. He couldn’t even pray for help from his brothers. And maybe he deserved it that way.

In the few quiet minutes Castiel had when one of the captors was asleep and the other one consuming a meal, the angel wondered if humans maybe could be even more keen on hurting and betraying than demons themselves. At least it very much looked like it right now.

Additionally, that would explain why neither of those two species had a problem with engaging in contracts with each other. How could he have missed this before?

“Ohh, angel, look at that. Didn’t know you were still hiding something. Hah, you're really one of my favourite toys until now. We’ve grown tired of the others way sooner.”

Castiel slowly raised his head, trying to figure out what the man referred to. Never before had he reached the boundaries of his grace, and he never intended to before. Every muscle in his body felt heavy and bone tired. He could feel them, but moving even an inch felt as he was trying to drag them through quicksand.

His captors had shown incredible stamina in keeping Castiel busy, his grace was needed so often to heal the vessel, that it had slowly used itself up. Of course it wasn’t gone, angels couldn’t die just like that, but it was weakened enough that it required nutrition and rest to be of use again.

Out of the corner of his eye, the angel could see the edge of his wings hanging limply behind him. And apparently he wasn’t the only one. His grace didn’t even bother to hide this feature of his real body from the humans anymore. And at this point Castiel couldn’t find himself to care either.

Until he realized the extent of his captors' cruel creativity once more, that was.

“Oh, what lovely wings you have. Why didn’t you show them earlier? What a shame.” The man with the hat smiled slyly while circling Castiel's bound form. Without warning bold hands gripped into the feathers, making the breath catch in the angels throat. No.

“Really nice, another thing to explore about you, lil’ angel. And it would be a shame to enjoy that alone. Wait for it, I’ll be right back for you.”

Castiel couldn’t even spread his wings, they were nothing more than a dead weight pulling at his back, no help, just a disadvantage. Even more so than he could imagine at this point.

This had been the first time a human had touched his wings, the first time something other than a celestial being had even seen them. It was so very wrong that even the very touch made his raw self cringe and yell. Wings were as essential to an angel as their souls, they were a display of themselves, sacred. Angels who dared as much as come too close to them without being allowed to were severely punished.

Nobody ever thought about damaging them.  
  
Until this day.  
  
~

“And I’ve though we’ve already heard every nice sound you could make. Oh, how could we be that wrong?” the man with the broad hands mocked while ripping out a handful of once shining feathers.

The first thing the men had found out was, that wings could indeed bleed, a lot more than they would have assumed, actually. That came to be because of the sensible skin that lay around the bones under the feathers, it needed a lot of blood due to the immense span of the wings that made it possible to fly.

The second thing they noticed was that Castiel wasn’t able to hold back the sounds of pain when they worked on his wings. The wounds inflicted on the vessel were, without doubt, horrible and far from easy to bear, but the wings were a real part of the angel's body and, in addition to that, highly sensitive.

The men were delighted.

The moment when even their games at the wings didn’t show any more effect than twitching, because Castiel's throat was cried bloody and his limbs had long ago stopped responding properly, they decided to end it.

“Ready for the grand finale, boy?” the hat man asked rhetorically while his partner rummaged in a second drawer next to the one with the knifes. He crouched down to see the angel's face, which hadn’t looked up for quite a while now. Better not to know what happened next, that kept at least the pain of anticipation away. That was a lesson Castiel hat learned when they had branded him. The prospect of the red-hot iron as well as the show the men had put up had made everything even worse.

Nothing was worse though than what they had planned for the end. An aggressively smelling liquid was poured over the stained wings, oily and stickily claiming every inch of air between feathers and skin. Castiel trembled uncontrollably when the lighter came into his view.

“Let’s see what a nice fire we can make, shall we?”

Feathers as such are not easy to set on fire, they would only burn when exposed to a flame long enough and the men seemed to be aware of this fact. So the benzine was there to help with that issue.

It really worked better this way. In mere seconds the whole liquid was on fire, not burning the feathers themselves but the skin underneath.

Castiel let out a scream that wasn’t human anymore. It resembled a bit an animal in fear of death, but mostly it was a bone shattering cry that resonated through the whole basement. It was the most primal sound both men had ever heard. It scared them.

And they had every reason to be scared. Neither of them had seen how it had happened, but suddenly, without haste, Castiel rose from the chair, ropes falling to the ground uselessly.

The angel took the few steps toward his torturers where they had positioned himself to watch the final act without getting harmed, burning wings shining behind him. If anyone could have asked them how they would describe the angels eyes at the moment, they wouldn’t have had an answer. Not that they would have been able to reply, they died the second Castiel reached them.  
  


~

  
The angel broke down before he reached a place where he could rest safely. After he had killed his captors and extinguished the fire that kept burning through his wings, he had left the basement as fast as he could.

As sudden as his power had come, it vanished again after the immediate harm was over. Then his body just collapsed on the ground in the mud, marvelously cool on his hurting skin, somewhere along an unpaved street in the dark.

Maybe that was what he deserved for rebelling. Rebelling for something cruel minded as the humankind.

 

~

“Dean! Hurry up!” His brothers voice sounded through the motel door, a desperate and urgent tone under it. The older Winchester picked up on it immediately, could Sam be in trouble?

That thought made him abandon his bottle of cheap beer instantly and unlock the door without a second to fumble. The younger man stumbled in, bent forward a bit to make sure the person who he held around the middle wouldn't fall backward.

Without taking a proper look, Dean jumped out of the way and hastily pushed clothes from the bed closer to the door to make room for the obviously hurt person. He didn’t really care what had happened right now, but that boy couldn’t be older than his brother and seemed in desperate need of help. Who was he to decline that.  
  
“Lay him down there Sammy. Where did you find him? Was he conscious?”

“I found him behind the outskirts of the town next to the street. But Dean, I don’t even know what he is?” Now the young man looked concerned for a whole other reason.

“What do you mean with what he is– oh.”

With the stranger laying on his stomach, the Winchester could have an undisturbed look at the man's back. It didn’t look as a back should, there were wings on it.

Granted, they weren’t as big and shiny white as those pictures in the children's bible showed you, but those were undoubtedly wings.  
  
“Shit, Sammy. Is that a sick joke or something? ‘cause it’s not funny.”

Sam swallowed silently next to him. “I don’t think it is.”

Deciding that they could ponder about those things later, the brothers got everything together they needed to start an attempt to patch up the stranger and his wings. Dean had never been happier about the fact that he stored an extended first-aid kit for emergencies, because if they were honest with themselves, the Winchesters had the ability to get into trouble easily.  
  
Wasn’t it funny that the only mostly unharmed piece of clothing was a rumpled, dark blue tie? Everything else, meaning dress shirt and pants, was sliced, muddy or bloodied and all in all in horrible state. After nothing more than a short hesitation, they removed the ruined clothing which proved to be very difficult even with two persons, since they not only had to mind the wounds and death weight, but these wings as well.  
  
The maybe biggest problem was, that Dean didn’t dare to turn the stranger over to tend to the wounds on his chest, since he was afraid he might hurt him even more. Luckily Sam came up with an idea, one of them would hold the man up in a sitting position, while the other one wold take care of the injuries. They were quick to decide that Sam would do the keeping him upright thing, since Dean had more experience with wounds. Even though not this kind.

The younger Winchester was careful to prop the other man up, trying to find places on chest and arms where he could touch him without doing harm, and in the end leaning him with his shoulder against his own for support.  
  
Dean started at the lighter cuts on the bared chest. There weren’t much and honestly weren’t really in need of anything more than cleaning, but the man was hesitant to just jump into the mess that was the rest of their patient's body.

Now that the remnants of clothing weren’t hiding the man's frame anymore, the brothers could see how thin and malnourished he was. The unhurt skin was dry and pale as if he hadn’t seen the sun for months.  
  
The older Winchester bit his lip; when he imagined that the things this guy had endured could happen to Sam, it made him angry and frustrated.

“Its fine, Dean. But I wonder if he doesn’t have anyone searching for him?” Sam eyed the young man next to him thoughtfully. What had he done that someone did something like this to him? Maybe they would never know.

Eventually, Dean couldn’t busy himself with the minor injuries anymore and he efficiently cleaned and bandaged any cuts and burn marks he could find on the bare chest and thighs. It was awkward to kneel in front of a naked, unconscious stranger, but the older Winchester wouldn’t let someone suffer because it put him into an uncomfortable situation.  
  
More than once, his eyes narrowed while he frowned at a particularly bad cut that nearly counted as stab wound, wondering how this person could be still alive.

“Okay, I think I didn’t miss anything. What do you think? Moving on to his back?”

Before Dean could as much as touch the injured wings, the man let out a silent moan. “Hey buddy, youwith us?” The younger Winchester lowered his head to catch a glimpse under the ruffled hair.

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s better when he stays down for a bit. This can’t be too pleasant.”

Dean could only agree and winced inwardly when he carefully stroked over something black that looked like a lump of earth, but assuming from the guys reaction wasn’t.  
  
One moment later, Sam only noticed a flutter of eyelids and then time seemed to speed up. In the quarter of a second the man had hoisted himself up with strength neither of the brothers would have indulged him to in this condition. But maybe, Dean thought, that was a panic result, waking up like this must be terrifying.

“Hey hey, it’s fine. Calm down. We want to help!”

Hastily, the Winchesters raised their hands and backed as far away as they could in the tiny room. Blue, light eyes pierced through them for a moment, before trailing away. Apparently he couldn’t focus too well, maybe a concussion or something?

“No! Go away, don’t you dare touch me. I’ll end you like I ended the others.” The eyes were incredibly wide and shone in a way that promised danger.

“Okay, we get it, we get it. Just, let us all relax for a sec, shall we?” That was the contra of helping random strangers. “See, we don’t know what happened to you, but my brother here,” Dean gestured vaguely to Sam, “found you next to a street, and seriously, you don’t look too peachy. We just wanted to help you.”

The guy blinked, looking not very convinced, but his body slumped down a bit from his defensive stance. Dean wasn’t sure if that was due to his words or because a wave of fatigue had hit him.

The brothers exchanged a quick look and Sam inched closer slowly, trying not to look intimidating.

“What’s your name? I’m Sam and that’s Dean. Can we do something to make you more comfortable?”

Was this guy even breathing? He looked so tense even in the slumped state, Dean wanted nothing more than to patch him up and force him into bed to rest.

A very prominent moment of hesitation, another look into the brothers faces before the man opened his mouth again. “Castiel.”

The older Winchester nodded slowly in a silent encouragement, waiting for something more, but nothing came out after that. “Okay, good, Castiel then. Nice name, but odd, but that fits, I guess.” Sam shot him a sharp glance. “What? It’s true! Nothing bad with that, odd’s great, normalcy sucks, I mean look at us.”

Castiel kept staring at a point behind the brothers, apparently zoning out for a few seconds. When he additionally started swaying subtly, Dean decided that he had to do something. Giving him time and everything, well, but if the boy crashed down on the ground that really wouldn’t help his condition.

“Hey, look at me. You’re lying down, or at least sitting, ‘cause I’m not having you hurting yourself even more, got it?” Judging by his startled expression, he didn’t get it. “C’mon, let’s get you settled again. Sam, get him something to drink.”

Castiel glanced to the younger brother as to make sure that he really was just getting water from the mini fridge under the TV. “No, I don’t need– what do you want from me? Letting me heal so I will endure another round? I managed to break free the last time, I’ll do it again.”

It was supposed to be warning, threatening even, but it came out weak and just slightly broken. Dean’s stomach twisted in sympathy, people were the only monsters in the world. “Look, I don’t doubt that and feel free to kill us if you feel like we deserve it. But maybe we could get you in better shape before that? As I said, I don’t want you dying on the floor.”

Without Castiel noticing, the man had sneaked closer, gently placing his hand on an uninjured spot between the shoulder blades. And surprisingly, the other one didn’t fight it but let himself guided back to the bed.

“Why do you do this? I don’t understand?” A pained expression flickered over the smaller man’s features. Dean wanted to punch someone.

“Because I’m a decent human being. Here, take a sip and then get down there.”

Sam handed over a water bottle and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it would be better if I go down into the diner and eat something? Should be enough if you’re here.”

The older Winchester got what he was implying and nodded gratefully. “Sure thing, I’ve got that here. See you later.” Castiel shoot Sam a suspicious glance while he exited the room, bottle clutched between his hands.

“Just ask.” Gruff voice, trying to appear unbothered, indifferent.

It didn’t fool Dean for a second, of course not, he used that tactic for years now and he knew the signs. “What’s to ask? You’re an angel and ran into the wrong people. Seems pretty clear to me.”

Of course the Winchester had his fair share of problems with the angel-part, but he could see the proof with his own eyes, seeing the flesh of Castiel’s back attached to the formerly most likely glorious wings.

Dean settled back down at his previous spot behind the angel, who seemed still uncomfortable enough to make him uneasy. “Okay, believe me, I get it, you don’t trust me. Hell, that’s the most intelligent thing you can do, but I promise I want to help. If I would just want to continue… that, I would just do it, wouldn’t I?”

The angel seemed to contemplate that and appeared to acknowledge that point. “Yes,” he mumbled, head turned around slightly, not enough to really see the Winchester but to notice any abrupt movements early.

Now that Castiel was conscious, the cleaning up would be more difficult. Even though Dean didn’t have to fight with dead weight anymore, he hesitated a lot more to touch and consequently make the other person hurt. “Um, buddy. Maybe I should look for some painkillers or something. That won’t be all rainbows and unicorns, whatever those people have done to you, they were quite thorough.”

Castiel let out a noise that sounded like a snort, but he could have mistaken. “It’s fine. But I appreciate the offer.” A short moment of silence. “Dean.”

The Winchester’s lips quirked into a little smile before nodding: “Kay, that’s awesome ‘cause I think we don’t have anything else than aspirin and I’m sure as hell not giving you that.” After that, Castiel’s body went completely still. When he had thought the angel had been weirdly unmoving before that was no comparison to now. Most likely it was an attempt to endure the whole thing without accidentally making it worse, but it was a bit creepy in Dean’s opinion.

“Yeah, this may sound easier than it is, but try to relax, Cas, okay? Should I tell you what I’m going to do? Would that help?” The angel flinched minutely and there was a sharp intake of air, even though Dean hadn’t started tending the wounds yet. “Are you okay? ‘s something wrong? I mean besides the obvious?”

He shuffled a bit to get to look into Castiel’s face and saw him swallow while those blue eyes stared into Deans. “You called me Cas.”

That was what irritated the guy of all things? The Winchester chuckled silently and gently patted Castiel’s shoulder, careful to choose a spot where the skin wasn’t burned or cut. “Yeah, you don’t mind, do you? Your name is just too long.” Dean shrugged when the other person didn’t say anything else and instead he concentrated on the matter on hand again.

“I think I’ve to clean the mud up so that it can heal.” Frowning he bit his lips. “They will heal, won’t they?” What if wings were an once-in-a-lifetime thing? Like eyes or arms or something?

The first time since they had placed themselves on the bed again, Castiel turned his head and looked down onto his hands which were placed neatly in his lap. “Yes they will. As soon as my grace has filled itself up again it will start to repair the damage this body and the wings have encountered.”  
Grace? Was that the name for angel mojo or something?

“Sounds good to me. How do you fill your mojo up? You need some angel juice for that?”

Castiel blinked and stayed quiet for a second before answering slowly. “There is no juice but in some circumstances rest and food is required when the grace can’t maintain this body on its own anymore.”

Dean sighed soundlessly; he wouldn’t ask how it came that the little angel needed something to support his nature. If those people would be still alive, he would definitively find a way to pay them back for what they had done. Maybe when Castiel was better again, he could try and find out a bit more about what had happened, how long he had been there and how he had ended up here in the first place.

Angels weren’t supposed to be on earth, weren’t they? Now Dean wished he would have paid more attention in school.

The cleaning itself took a long time. Remains of benzine and mud made it nearly impossible to see the whole damage and it was even harder to get the stuff out. In the end Dean settled with brushing off the worst with a wet rug, inwardly cringing every time Castiel flinched or let a small sound of pain slip past his lips.

“How long does it take until you’ll start healing? Then I’ll take care of the rest?” Right now the Winchester really didn’t want to prod on the wings anymore, not when he couldn’t difference between burnt flesh and dirt.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been in this situation before. A day perhaps, or two.”

“Alright. Then we’ll get you fed up and tomorrow everything’ll look better and you’ll be as good as new.” That was maybe a bit more enthusiasm than needed, but if the angel noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead Castiel slowly turned his upper body and met his gaze silently.

Until now Dean hadn’t have got a close look into the other man’s face, the whole time there had been more important things. But now he got the occasion and was positive that Castiel couldn’t be too old. Yes, the face was dry and pale, broken and bruised, but behind it Dean saw a youth that reminded him of Sammy while being so very different.

With a light smile the Winchester rinsed out the wash cloth again before lifting his hand to Castiel’s head. The angel just stared but didn’t back off and let him brush over the sensitive skin, cleaning it with a few swipes.

“There you go. Nice to see you.” Dean joked quietly before discarding the cloth and going back to take a close look at the angel. He appeared to be ready to fall over any moment. Actually he had looked like this the whole time.

A quick decision later the Winchester pulled out his phone typing in a message to Sam asking him to get some food for them after he finished eating. In the meantime Dean helped the angel to lie down on his stomach in a way that wouldn’t end in horrible pain and contemplated covering him with a blanket. In the end he just did, keeping the angel warm seemed more important than a little more pain.

Either way, Castiel didn’t complain, he was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow.

When Sam returned later he was greeted by the sight of a still naked, but a definitely a lot better looking angel and his brother who sat cross-legged on the second bed, looking deep in thought. It was definitely an uncommon picture to come back to, but not bad. Silently to not startle the older Winchester he put down the take out bags and got rid of his jacket. “How is he?”

~

When Castiel slowly regained consciousness, he heard silent mumbling somewhere behind him. His first reaction was to use his grace to flee but that still didn’t work, so the angel only twitched a bit, fighting against the urge to make himself as small as possible.

“Hey, I think he woke up. Cas?” He blinked when suddenly the voice was a lot closer and somewhere next to his face. It was Dean, who looked down at him like he was concerned about something. Castiel nodded slowly, unable to move a lot more in his position and waited for whatever was going to happen.

“Awesome. You know, you passed out for eight hours, we thought you might be hurt worse and would die here. Sam even wanted to bring you into hospital.” The man paused, and apparently threw a quick glance to his brother. “Well, but now you’re awake. We saved you some food. It’s cold by now, but we can heat it up for you. Do you think you can sit up?”

And while the offer of food apparently wasn’t a question, Castiel could make out sounds from the younger Winchester rummaging in the motel kitchen, the second one was. Dean didn’t make a move to approach him further and somehow Castiel felt thankful for that.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll try.” True to his word, the angel carefully raised from the mattress, wings lighter than before. But still, it cost him a lot more effort than such a simple action was supposed to and it scared the angel a bit. He was still in no position to fight if he would need to.

“Okay, good. Sit tight, food's gonna be ready any minute.” Something akin to relief slipped into Dean’s voice and confused Castiel, but before he could pose a question, Sam appeared next to his brother, holding out a plate of a rice dish.

“Thank you.”

Cautiously, the angel took a bite, searching the Winchesters' eyes for a second before starting to chew. It was different than he had anticipated, when Castiel had pondered in heaven how it would feel to eat, to taste. Nothing came even close to the explosion that was flavour in his mouth and that rendered him speechless for a long moment.

“He seems to like it.” Sam rolled his eyes and smiled before nodding to the angel and left into something that had to be the bathroom. “If you like that you would be dying for Ellen’s burgers. She’s an awesome cook.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say, so he decided to just take another spoonful rice. When the angel had emptied half of his plate, Dean sat down next to him on the bed, leaving a gap between them.

“You’re feeling better?” Thoughtfully Castiel looked down into his lap before he was suddenly struck with a realization. These, these were the people he had expected when he had come to earth, those were the kind of human he had rebelled for. “I take it you are, I think this the first time I see you smiling.”

“I– I have to thank you.”

“You already did, Cas. That’s more than enough.”

The angel shook his head. “No, not for that. Well, yes, for that too, but I meant something different. Additionally. Thank you for being you.” Dean opened his mouth, maybe to ask something before he understood the meaning behind the angel’s words. For a second he looked actually sad, but then a new grin appeared and a rough hand patted Castiel’s shoulder softly.

“Sure thing, Cas.”

The food and the rest really were the key to power up the angel's grace and the same afternoon, his wounds started to heal themselves. That provoked an interesting reaction in the Winchester brothers, both of them were utterly fascinated to see the bright light closing the especially nasty wounds and wings.

At the end of the day only bald spots on the wings served as reminder of the state the angel had formerly been in. “It will take longer until the feathers will grow again,” Castiel explained to Sam, absently carding his fingers through one of the patches which survived the damage.

“You think you’re ready for more clean-up then? There’s still a lot of shit in them.”

The older brother looked at him expecting and confirmed with his words Castiel’s feeling that the skin was still sticky and the itching not only a phantom touch.

“Yes, but...” he hesitated; now that he was better again, there was no reason for Dean to help with that task again. “This time I can do that alone. If I could use your bathroom or something?” For a moment Castiel expected an argument or at least that they would demand an answer, something they would deserve after everything they’d done for him. “It’s because, no one is supposed to touch others angels’ wings. Well, it was alright yesterday, but now that I’m–”

“You don’t have to explain anything; you know where the bathroom is. Take your time and call if you need something.”

And Castiel did. It needed a bit of fumbling until he as well as his wings fit into the shower and a while longer until he could handle the buttons well enough to guide the water everywhere. In the end not only the angel himself but half of the bath was wet.

While Castiel slipped back into his clothes he wondered what he should do next. Within a blink the large wings had disappeared again for everyone except other angels and the floor was dry again.

Back in the main room, the brothers had gone back to doing their own thing. Sam was bending over a laptop while Dean laid on his bed a remote in hand frowning at the television. When the angel entered, two pairs of eyes flew to him. “Hey Cas.” They were smiling, the older one even tossed the remote onto the night stand and rose into a sitting position.

“Your wings okay?”

“Yes, I just chose to hide them again. I did that before, until my grace grew too thin.” The Winchester nodded in understanding, waving him closer.

“You look like you’ve got to say something. Go ahead.” On his right side, Sam closed his laptop to pay full attention to Castiel. “I– I think it would be the best if I leave now. I’ve already inconvenienced you two enough. And I am really thankful for that, but–”

“There was a reason for you to come down here, I bet? And sure as hell you weren’t finished when those assholes caught you? Hey, we understand that, Cas, we know that feeling.” Dean got to his feet and closed the remaining gap between him and the angel. “It’s alright, I’m happy if you feel like going out there again, you’ve got my respect for that, man. But before you fly off, we’ll give you our phone numbers so you can call us if you need us.”

Sam cut in: “Even if you don’t need us and just want to hang out. We like you, you’re always welcome.”

There were a few beats of heavy silence and once more Castiel felt like he should say something.

“I’m afraid I don’t own a phone.”

Dean snorted and the angel could hear the younger Winchester chuckle a bit quieter. “Sammy, we still have some of those spare phones, don’t we?”

The angel didn’t ask why those men owned so many phones when it was normal to have only one, but the older Winchester smiled and told him when he caught the confused look. “How about a deal? We’ll tell you about our past business the next time we meet up? And I don’t mean an emergency call, just to meet up for a beer or something. What do you think?”

Castiel was stunned but felt something warm pour into his stomach, something he liked. It felt like home, not now but back when he had been little and everything had been peaceful.

Castiel smiled. “I think I will look forward to that.”

“That’s our angel.” Dean proclaimed and before he could react the man pulled him into an embrace, firmly but not unpleasant and it didn’t take him long to reciprocate. This was his first hug and it was even more warm and intimate than it had looked like when he had seen humans do it from heaven.

The three of them really did meet up every now and then, though they never met in a place more than twice. True to his word, Dean explained the next time what had happened in the brothers’ childhood that they kept travelling around the states and in exchange Castiel explained why he had been cast out.

And after every night he spent with the Winchesters, the angel was more certain that it had been the right decision to rebel. Because while there were people who, without doubt, could compete with demons in their deviousness, there were a lot of good ones too.

The Winchesters were. They couldn’t see it, but they were good men and Castiel decided to help them see it like they showed him the human kindness he had always believed in.

 


End file.
